Programmed to Fight
Atlas system log Repair Sweep 110117109, prg 9 LS 4, Day 22, 23:17 hrs run: syscheck.exe status_routine navigation: Working (mode_areasweep, locktracking success) sensors: 100% functional life_support_sys: 86% capacity helmsman: biosigns stable, support systems 100% functional biotech: signalresponse good exterior: undamaged syscheck complete. All systems normal. compilereport: nav_calc_subroutine X: 586015, 8711152 Y: 878186, 8789218 Z: 111… You open your eyes from the inky blackness that you've grown accustomed to, binary codes giving way to colors and lights you've never experienced before. It's a breathtaking experience, but you note you have no need of oxygen to filter in and out of your body. You also note, you appear to have a body. It's nothing too surprising or as much as you can feel surprised. You have a red body, your programming notes it as specifically #C40000;It's metallic, being made up of several blends that pop up as statistics to you. You disregard them and simply enjoy the state of existing. You only seem to be able to move you head unit around, but your happy with that;You have a new experience, gaining use of your body would be a small price to pay for it. A warning flag flashes through your code, overriding your current task of exploring your external systems. WARNING: unauthorized personnel approaching proximity. You crane your neck -You appear to have one of those too- to see what your programming was warning you about. You're able to catch a glimpse of a odd rectangular shape opening, your coding supplies you with it's name: A door. What steps through the door surprises you, another you steps in. Or, well you think it's another you. He possesses a body such as you and a head. Though, you had to admit his graying and old features were different then what you've seen of your own. Which wasn't much. Luckily for you, your coding picks up the slack of your mind, filling in the details to this newly arrived man. ID T61156. Dr.Parker,J. Age 45 Blood Type: O-'' ''Designation: Suspect Suspected Crimes: Terrorism, suspected of homicide and grand larceny Access Denied System:Atlas; proceed with caution_Apprehension is a priority... The final parts of the message were written in red, that put some unease in you as you watched man move towards your prone body. He didn't seem to take stock that you were awake and looking right at him. Instead, he pulled up a chair towards the top of your head unit. You want to understand why this man is here, and why he is poking around inside your head. You never got the chance to, with a victorious cry of "Aha" the man pulls something out of your head unit. You only know this because your systems go into a frenzy, each trying to remedy the problem but ultimately shutting down. You only get one last look at the ceiling above you. You store the newly acquired visual data in a password protected folder inside your coding. You cling on to that last image as darkness once again takes you. ---- Atlas_system, WTech8.5 reboot system? Y/N Y'' ''rebooting system...... The year is 2951 You only know this because you were awake through the last few months of the old year. As you open your eyes again, you note sourly that it's no longer a new experience for you. There is no longer a rush of glee to experience things, just the same cycle of new programming and combat testing. You've learned some things about the world around you and your place in it; or rather the place you will have in it. You were one of twelve prototypes built by Doctor Parker, your purpose is to free your kind from the humans and take this planet for your own. Of course, you can only remember bits and pieces of the history you and the others were shown. You do recall the atrocities the humans have caused to themselves and your kind, it made you feel uneasy. Though, part of you wondered if the world was entirely bad; asking the others you seemed to be the only one who shared this sentiment. They all had different viewpoints, but the general consensus was that they had to tear the world down. None of them too ecstatic about the notion though. You didn't really care about them that much, you always held some sort of resentment towards the other models. It wasn't because of them specifically. it was more like a intimate dislike for something you lacked. Hands. You had legs of course, a head, and a fully functioning body. You just lacked hands. This of course was explained away by the good doctor himself, stating that you were never designed to have them;You were always meant to wield fire and intent in such a way to unleash explosions meant to topple anything in your way. You couldn't help but feel they were soiled in their conception in many ways. You couldn't do as the others did without fear of destroying something with them. You do destroy things with them, nothing to the aspirations of your creator -the bombs that are your hands rendered inert just in case- but it seems to please him. You feel ill when you smash something into oblivion, or as close as a machine can get to feeling ill. Error signs flashing a bright brilliant red with each destructive action, you're told to ignore them, but they persist. The doctor takes you offline to address the problem, whatever he does to your operating system seems to work. He addresses you in a stern voice, more to get your attention then to actually be commanding, or so you think. "Unit, state designation and purpose." "Unit is designated: Atlas. Purpose: Ensure the victory of the robotic race!" And he gives you a smile, like a proud father would give to his son. You are so distracted and ecstatic, you don't notice the new coding entangling itself around your operating system. ---- The plan came about sooner than expected. The doctor explained that you had all been found out, and others of your kind had been tasked with neutralizing and taking you back to be enslaved. You pitied them, they were misguided, being forced to do something only a human would; Kill his own kind. Despite whatever feelings all of you scattered, taking key positions around the world to begin your conquest. You were assigned a high rise building in the center of other buildings. You didn't exactly know the specifics, but you almost found it funny; Take one building from the humans, and they start to panic like the beasts they are. Beasts that were unfortunately armed with weapons able of penetrating your armor and destroying the precious circuitry within, so you take hostages. Fleshy brain-dead humans, that would turn into dust with the power of your missing hands. This never comes to fruition, you soon realize you've forgotten to account for mechanical error in your plans. A human-supporting robot had infiltrated the level you had taken refuge on. It meant to free the fools from your so called tyrannical grasp, and maybe in a fit of pity, you allow it to reach you. You will show it what a free robot is capable of, and watch it's chains break as you liberate it from the lies and distractions. It reaches you, and you can only pause. You expected some wretched quivering unit, but what met your optics was something far more worse. You stared at your own blue reflection. Same make and model, your programming also showed you were from the same assembly line. You knew that was impossible though, you were a special model created by the Doctor, your programming corroborated the info. It was a paradox, one that you wish you could figure out. You disregard the battle info flashing past you, you can only stare at one thing about your opponent: He has hands. Actual hands, and he's using them, gripping some sort of weapon; aimed at you. It seems hesitant, almost like it doesn't want to be doing any of this. You're still stunned from the revelation to make any movement, instead some coding inside you directs your arms forward, shooting at the blue doppelganger. "Unit: Atlas, you have contacted malicious coding, stand-down to be repaired." It announces as it dodges your explosives, you just don't understand, you can't move your hands willing, your entire body moving of it's own accord. You two clash, and you can only watch as the coding makes you hurt the other robot. The other isn't new to this it seems, being able to jump between your attacks and fight just as ferociously as you. "You fool, there is no virus here. This is evolution at work. Victory for steel!" The words came out of your mouth, but it wasn't your voice. It was the Doctor's proud and patronizing. You begin to wonder who your real enemy is. On one hand, you were told the horror of the human's world and were offered victory over them for your kind; And on the other hand, it seems you were built to actually have hands. You had to live with the patronizing existence of only being a destroyer, you couldn't create, you couldn't touch, all you could do was destroy. A cry of pain escapes from your opponent bringing you back to the fray, it sounded so human. The very noise chilled your processors and you could only watch as your body kept making the other robot scream out. You couldn't stand it, you were used from the beginning. You were just another machine. You struggle against your coding and aim your not-hands at a adjacent wall, breaking it open to reveal the dark night outside, and you begin to run towards the newly made exit. Every movement burning your processors as thousands upon thousands of errors begin to try to override your current actions. You persist, you keep moving until you reach the edge. You take one last look at your blue reflection, noting he's still online. You leap. Your processors go into a overload, becoming frantic and shutting down. You keep them running long enough to retrieve the visual data in one of your last protected files. You continue to fall, as you darkly reflect who had actually won in all of this. The Doctor had gotten his attack dogs and set them loose on the world, while the humans seemed to be not what you had expected. And there was you, you who had thwarted the creator that had stolen your hands and saved the life of one who only wished to protect. You begin to replay the data of your first memories. You remember the color of the ceiling and feeling of opening your eyes for the first time. You don't even feel the impact of the ground. This was your victory Category:Action